


to dance along the lightning

by peppermintly (soundingawkward)



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Cissexswap, F/F, Fluff and Angst, always-a-girl!Nick, always-a-girl!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:17:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundingawkward/pseuds/peppermintly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nick was two years and fifty nine days ago and an end that hadn’t hurt. she had no right to fit so perfectly back in louis’ life like she’d never really left at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to dance along the lightning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeanchors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeanchors/gifts).



> firstly, i'd like to give a massive thank you to my beta [carrie](http://loukey.tumblr.com). and thank you so much for all your support and help. especially considering i restarted a new fic on a different prompt for this, three days before it was due. your support made this possible, and it means the world to me. any further mistakes are my own. 
> 
> the title is a metaphor in a metaphor of an idea. it’s a part of the lyric from train’s drops of jupiter, which i always thought was _"did you finally get to dance along the lightning,"_ (rather than light of day, not lightning.) i listened to the [boyce avenue acoustic cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_ING1C747Y) whilst editing. [she way out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vq9GfM9DGc8&feature=kp) by the 1975 is what played on repeat whilst writing. i'd recommend listening to either of the songs whilst reading. 
> 
> oh, final note: the lack of capitalisation is highly stylistic and meant to be that way for the flow of the story. please don't call me lazy for writing like that, it's a part of the fiction.

the roar of excited, slightly drunk persons dulls to a murmur as louis takes up residence on the small balcony of harry’s inner-city flat. the air bites at her, and it smells a bit like marlboros where she’s leaning against the wall. a sad-looking potted plant keeps her company as she lets her heart return to normal. it’s hot inside, the kind of too hot that makes her cheeks flush and her shirt cling to herself. the cement floor is freezing through her heeled boots, and there’s a breeze that brings the noise of late night traffic up to her.

 

it’s nice, she thinks. she missed london and it’s hustle and bustle. the coffee shop ‘round the corner that knows exactly how to serve masala chai and the serving staff’s friendly faces welcoming her. the chill of the evening, and the two for one bar nights with tables sticky from spilt beer. harry’s infamous house parties full of british socialites and b-list celebrities and too loud music. she missed that; she missed being a part of it all.

 

the balcony door slides slowly open, inside’s raucous dancing out to louis’ ears. with a small, unmistakably familiar giggle a couple of women stumble out to the rickety outdoor table and the sad pot plant. hair bright pink, and nails possibly an inch long the one and only aimee phillips eyes dart over to where louis is standing with her back against the wall. she pauses for a second, and then deposits her friend down, giving louis a smile as she goes back inside.

 

“ah fuck, the seating’s cold as balls,” nick says, pulling a lighter out her pocket and flicks at it, trying to light it up. louis feels the breath get all caught up in her throat as nick lights a cigarette and pulls a quick, dirty puff from it. the smoke from her lips disappears out into the cold night air.

 

she’s _exactly_ as louis remembers.

 

her mouth curls into a small smile, and crinkles frame her wide, expressive eyes. the curling, tumbling fountain of brown tresses still flows down her shoulders, although obviously someone’s been at the ends with bleach and soft purple dye. between drags of her cigarette she smudges purply maroon lipstick over a wine glass, humming to herself. louis wants to say something, say _hello or i’m back_ or even _i missed you_ , except the words get all stuck in her throat, mesmerised by the way nick hooks her knee over the other.

 

nick’s dress is slinky and black, disappearing under the smart cut of her favourite leather jacket. she hasn’t covered up her freckles in expensive foundation and louis wants to curl up in her arms again. misses the warmth and the bony elbows and feels so at home with her now, in the dark, just the two of them.

 

“i see you’re still smoking the same old, cheap brands you always have,” louis says instead of _you’re as beautiful as always_ or _i don’t remember why i went and left you behind_. nick looks up, eyes glancing over to louis’ wall and then her whole face lights up.

“louis!” she replies, jumping up and nearly spilling her wine all over her lap. carefully she steadies the glass and sets it down next to the pot plant, snuffing her cigarette in the ashtray and wraps louis up in a hug.

 

she smells like peonies and cigarettes and just a tad of red wine. she’s warm and strong and probably smudging lipstick on louis but louis doesn’t care. she hugs back just as tightly and thinks about never letting go. never leaving this quiet, bustling moment of the city and the parties, but mostly just her and nick.

 

“oh love,” nick says, pulling back slightly and rests a hand on louis’ goosepimple covered arm and a smile brighter than the dots of the street lights below them, “you’re looking lovely. i missed you.”

“i missed you too,” louis can feel a lump in her throat and she falls back into a tighter hug. burying her cold nose into nick’s neck and huffing out a laugh when nick jumps at the coldness. she grips onto louis tightly too, smiling into louis’ hair.

 

“it’s a bit cold out here to be without a cigarette,” nick murmurs quietly in a moment or two later, pulling back from louis. she takes louis’ hand though, and smiles in a way that makes louis’ stomach flip flop around nervously.

“it is certainly cold,” louis agrees, mostly because she’s got a million things to say and yet none of them seem to be able to word themselves properly enough to speak them aloud.

“want a smoke?” nick offers her pack out to louis, but she waves it away.

 

louis leans on the balcony edge, looking down at the lights and the traffic and smiles to herself. she glances over as nick tips back the rest of her wine, leaving her glass empty next to the pot plant, and then presses herself to louis’ side. her hands rest out over the edge and she flicks at her lighter, flame flickering out and burns there as she lights up. lighter safely back in her pocket, she plucks the cigarette out from her lips and breathes out. after another couple of pulls, she offers the cigarette itself to louis and for a few, quiet moments they pass the cigarette back and forth, the colours of their lipsticks melding together.

 

“so,” louis tries, feeling like years apart has changed things drastically, but a small part sinking in the familiarity of it, the familiarity of nick and her smile, “are you still hosting the breakfast show or did someone finally manage to kick you out?”

“ha, i’m still there,” nick laughs, joy and cold turning her cheeks pink, “they can’t get rid of me that easily. the dulcet tones of nick grimshaw still wake up britain every morning, don’t you worry.”

 

“i’m glad,” louis says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another drag of the dwindling cigarette, “surely you’d have trouble elsewhere trying to get another job.” she teases.

“right, at least one of us can hold down a job,” nick laughs back, nudging louis’ with an elbow, “your band breaks down and you run off to bloody switzerland of all places.”

“i didn’t,” louis starts, affronted until she catches nick’s little teasing smirk, “i didn’t run off to switzerland. i was just, exploring the world, expanding my horizons and all that, you know? you said it was a good idea, and without the band - well there was nothing stopping me from doing that.”

 

nick considers her for a minute or two, and the concentration on herself makes louis blush. one direction had been finished, split up and no longer needed louis around for recording or gigs or anything like that. and, whatever it had been with nick, whatever they were calling or not calling the thing that had been between them had ended. there was _no reason_ for her to have stayed. nothing to hold her to the hum and bustle of london nights out on balconies and cheap beer.

 

“i did, didn’t i?” nick , her question rhetorical and louis hums a quiet response anyway. “well, i hope you found what you were looking for. and mostly, i’m selfishly glad that you’re back. i missed you a lot. all my friends only had positive things to say about my show, it was dreadfully monotone without you filling my phone with rude responses.”

 

“i wouldn’t have that thought you’d missed _that_ ,” louis laughs, touching at nick’s arm with a wide smile, “surely your days were better when i wasn’t calling you a fuck up.”

“you would think so,” nick replies morosely, “but it wasn’t the case at all. i think the best part of your snarky texts was that i got to ignore them. or try harder to do exactly the things that you said were stupid.”

“you mean all that time you were doing the opposite of my helpful advice?” louis admonished, swatting at nick’s shoulder, “no wonder you never got any better.”

 

“it’s not like you took any of my advice on stadium tours or pre-performance rituals,” nick points out, halfway through lighting up another cigarette, “i could hardly follow the advice of someone who didn’t want to follow my advice.”

“oh, what do you know about stadium tours?” louis frowns remembering the stupid little things nick used to suggest as louis was pacing around backstage, ready to throw up her lunch with nerves, “and i don’t believe any of your advice had helped anyone ever. harry took some to heart once, and then she was late for the next ten performances.”

 

“oh, i remember that.” nick laughs, and she sounds so lovely, the moment in time so funny that louis can’t help but join in. they laugh until it drags off into nothing, and when louis looks over, nick’s already staring back. her gaze is soft and careful, and so achingly familiar that louis just _can’t_.

 

“i’m sorry,” louis says with barely a look down at her watchless wrist, “but i need to get going soon if i want to catch up with zayn. it was so lovely to see you again.” she fumbles the words out quickly, trying anything to excuse herself and leans in close to the smell of peonies and cigarettes to kiss nick on the cheek.  
“we can catch up later, yeah?” nick asks, and there’s a soft frown between her brows that louis wants to smooth out. she nods quickly, stepping back through the sliding door. the door shuts with a thud behind her, sealing the cold, peaceful closeness of nick from the warmth and buzz of excited, drunk bodies.

 

she stumbles through the crowd, being pressed in from all sides by people enjoying themselves and almost falls into the kitchen. forgoing a glass she drinks sparkling water straight out the bottle and tries to calm the shake of her hands. there’s a half empty bottle of tequila out on the bench top and the rinds of some limes in a small pool of its juice sitting by it. for a second, louis thinks about swigging a mouthful back but she sticks with the slightly bitter taste of sparkling water.

 

nick was two years and fifty nine days ago and an end that hadn’t hurt. she had no right to fit so perfectly back in louis’ life like she’d never really left at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**

harry keeps sending irritating little messages that dance around a point, and niall’s texts moan about not having seen her at harry’s, so louis turns her phone off. the landline isn’t up and running yet, so she’s not afraid of them switching to ringing. her new house is unopened boxes and microwave dinners and that’s fine, she guesses.

 

it’s better than the achingly familiar warmth of nick along her side and the smell of peonies coated with distinct acrid undertones of cheap cigarettes. not by much. but, it’s less terrifying to think about the comfort, about the memories, and it’s a lot easier to lock herself in her new, empty house, seeing no one. she had plastic covered vegetarian lasagna for lunch and it wasn’t bad, per say.

 

she settles down to reruns of friends with a bottle of over oxidised wine that liam had offered as a housewarming present. it’s too bitter, too aged for her sweet tooth of a palate, but she sips at it anyway in a slightly dusty glass. the cherry red liquid is soothing even if it’s terrible. louis can feel the way it spreads the warmth throughout her body, beginning from the pit of her stomach.

 

the second glass is about half way finished when the doorbell rings and louis huffs, ignoring it. the lights are mostly off, there’s just the brightness of the television screen, so whoever it is will assume no one is home and go away. it’s barely a minute before the doorbell rings again, and three more quick rings run in succession from each other. annoyed, louis switches the television off and hopes now the complete silence of the house deters her visitor. for a moment, she’s almost certain they’ve left until the door bell goes off again.

 

“for fuck’s sake,” louis sighs and gulps down some more wine. she thinks about downing what’s left in her glass but it’s nasty enough that she doesn’t think she can handle anything more than a mouthful at a time. surely, for someone to be quite as annoying as they are, it must be a former band mate. flipping the television back on, she pads barefooted down the hall to the front door, turning lights on as she goes. sighing, louis hopes whoever it is has pepperoni pizza as a peace offering.

 

there’s a bouquet of peach-coloured gladioli and nick with a tentative smile.

 

“uh, hi.” nick tries and holds out the bouquet, wrapped in green paper and a silk ribbon, “these are for you. i hope gladioli are okay. you do like peach don’t you? you see the florist had purple ones too, and a sort of bright orange as well as a white. but i wasn’t sure what colour you liked best. i thought i had better go with the more neutral, you know? white had seemed too plain so i thought peach was good.”

“ah, thank you.” louis says, her cheeks feel beet red, and she takes the bouquet carefully, “i better put these in a vase, why don’t you come in?” she adds with a flustered kind of smile and doesn’t realise what’s she done until nick’s closing the door behind herself.

 

panicky, louis rushes down the hallway to her kitchen, ducking around the boxes. inviting the one person she was hiding away from into her house wasn’t her smartest idea, but gladioli were beautiful and nick’s smile more so. putting the bouquet on the countertop she turns to the closest box in hope something vase-like will be carefully hidden inside. nick pushes her hair behind her ears and rests up against the other side of the counter. she looks like she wants to help, or say something, but she tries to hold her tongue as louis digs around her saucepans.

 

“harry told me where you live,” nick mumbles out as louis holds up a glass that could either hold champagne or flowers, she doesn’t know, “i asked because i wanted to come over and that’s why i knew where you live not because i’m like, creepy or anything.”

“oh,” louis looks up from deciding her glass will do as a vase, “i didn’t think it was. i mean, now i suppose i might, but i forgot that you didn’t know where my house is.”

“i forgot too,” nick coughs, hiding a small laugh behind a hand, “i had to ring harry on your old doorstep after a ridiculously wealthy looking old woman called me a charmer.”

 

“ _really?_ ” louis snorts, turning to the sink to fill the glass with fresh water.

“really. it was incredibly embarrassing,” nick grouses, pursing her lips together in a very serious expression that lasts approximately six seconds before it drops and she starts laughing, “still, it was worth it if i got to see you.”

“uhm, yeah,” louis titters, nerves making her fingers jump and skitter over the ribbon as she unties the bouquet, rolling the paper to release the gladioli. nick’s smiling with a blush high on her cheeks, the speckling of soft freckles over her skin and louis only wants to kiss her.

 

with feather light fingers nick helps louis arrange the flowers in the glass, holding the stems out as louis trims them with a set of kitchen scissors. they all just fit in the glass, the rows upon rows of gladioli looking incredibly lovely and louis thinks about the best place to put them.

 

“i brought beef carbonnade too, it’s from waitrose, of course, but i thought it’d be nice to have dinner together, again.” nick says, almost timidly and she pushes back a lock of hair that had wrestled free from being behind an ear.

“carbonnade sounds lovely,” louis smiles softly, and it feels so very domestic, like nick might come home every night with food to her and it’s so unbelievably _nice_ louis doesn’t know what to think, “ah, do i cook it in the oven or the microwave?”

“i don’t know,” nick laughs just the tiniest bit, and lifts the plastic bag up onto the countertop to pass it over to louis, “i’ve come all this way to try to wine and dine you but i don’t have any wine and i don’t even know how to cook the food i’ve brought. i remember you liking carbonnade though.”

 

“i do,” louis feels her cheeks flush, and she looks away. nick’s eyes are wide and and her mouth is curling up a smile and it’s too much. it’s far too much to think about nick remembering food she likes and nick _wining and dining_ her, “and, there’s already a bottle open in the lounge, so i don’t suppose it matters you didn’t bring any. i warn you, it’s not very good.”

“surely,” nick says as she wanders towards the lounge, leaving the beef carbonnade in louis’ capable hands to put in the oven or what not, “that harry gave you the wine. she’s got no taste when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“actually it was liam,” louis calls out, peering at the carbonnade cooking instructions.

 

with a shrug, she searches through the top drawer to find a fork and pops the plastic covering the carbonnade several times. humming, she puts it within the microwave and taps out the heating time. turning back to the mess of her kitchen, louis stares at the boxes piled here and there and wonders where exactly her bowls are.

 

“got another wine glass?” nick asks from over at the couch, turning around to peer over the top at louis and she rests her head in her folded over arms. she looks so at home, comfortable in this place louis still has trouble getting to sleep in.

“i have no idea where anything is?” louis replies with a wide, confused smile and nick throws her head back with a laugh.

 

“well,” nick says with a short nod of her head and turns back towards the television, “i hope you don’t mind sharing then.”

“of course not,” louis says but it’s been two years and fifty nine days since nick’s lipstick was company for her glassware, since louis could taste it on her own lips, and she does mind.

 

the microwave beeps loudly as louis rustles through the closest packing box, hoping something useable as a bowl can be found. something that possibly could have been a salad bowl, or maybe a dish to cook mac n’ cheese in appears out of the bubble wrap and it’s the closest thing louis’ found to eat out of, so she supposes it will do. the carbonnade comes piping hot out of the microwave and louis snatches her fingers away from the container as quickly as possible. using the edge of her shirt, louis grabs at the plastic once more and pours the meal in the bowl.

 

pulling another fork out of the drawer, louis pops it into the bowl of carbonnade and balances it in one hand as she picks up the vase of gladioli. stepping with a careful precision louis makes her way to nick, already sprawled out on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. she’s long, graceful limbs and the twitch of a smile, eyes wide and sparkling. she’s beautiful. and, it’s nothing louis didn’t already know, nothing she hasn’t wanted to shout from the roof tops before. but she calmly puts the gladioli down and hands the carbonnade over for nick tuck in.

 

“it smells good,” nick smiles as she lifts a forkful of the meal to her pale pink mouth and there’s smudges of her lipstick all over louis’ glass and her freckles are like constellations louis knows better than the lyrics to her own hit songs.

“don’t go home tonight,” louis says, “don’t go home ever. stay here, with me. just don’t _go_.”

 

there’s something caught up in nick’s eyes and she leans forwards and towards the coffee table at the same time. looking down, she stares at the brown mush of sauce over pieces of beef and then finishes the movement to pop the bowl down. her hands are warm from cradling around the meal, and she touches louis’ skin so gently it barely feels like her fingers are resting against louis’ chin.

 

“i’m not going anywhere,” nick whispers, her hair is slipping from behind her ears again and louis can see herself reflected in nick’s eyes, “ _god_ , you couldn’t get me to go anywhere even if you threw me out the house.”

 

“i’m pretty sure that’s like, stalking.” louis means to say except her hand is feather light against the freckles on the nape of nick’s neck. she can feel the curl of a smile pressed gently to her lips, and it doesn’t even feel like it’s been two years and fifty nine days.


End file.
